The other silence

There is that ‘other’ silence which escapes us, it is not the silence of the ‘other’ where we are just left to grasp the meaning, to read through the pause which extends beyond its own granted time, which defies its capture, which resists our gaze in the words. This silence is within us, this silence is what dawns upon us when we are in the crowd. Suddenly in a room where words are being flirted with and the laughter escapes the monotony of presences, this silence slowly crawls along the edge of the seat, waiting to grasp us in the time when we are not aware of ourselves. Suddenly the known faces seem strange and you ask yourself, who are these people? Why are you here? What are these people doing at this moment and what is their cause of the happiness? This silence is banal, for it exists everyday but only appears when we let our guard loose. Suddenly you lose grasp of the words, suddenly all seems so distant and meaning does not make any sense. You just sense the room closing down on you, the ceiling collapsing down and you wonder why these people are not aware of the claustrophobia of words? Why can’t they see the void hidden in those laughters? 

The unknown face

Cities survive where people don't

so tread carefully where you leave your mark, a hidden time is lurking in the distance where you will melt as the last remembered snow, erase hopes of all immortality before it erases you, let the being chisel out an existence in this endless chaos; time warps itself in 'invisible cities'. 
Hum the forgotten tune, remember the last waltz you took, the last harvest is yet to dry out of hope let's come, you and me, with no desires to etch in time; lets unwind this clock, the pause in our breath is beginning to slow this time, can't you see? Just take another step, this last one, the cracks have begun to crumble under their own weight, preservethe breath for the last dream, it was enough being painted the unknown face in the crowd.